


Pressure Points

by Achia626



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Mentioned Mycroft Holmes, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achia626/pseuds/Achia626
Summary: Charles Augustus Magnussen is a man who understands people well. Not in the intricate complex manner that we speak of, but of their emotions and their reactions. He knows what can get people on their knees begging for reprieve.Mycroft Holmes was about to be one of those people.Trigger: Death but not major character
Relationships: Mary Morstan & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, The JohnLock Conspiracy Fandom/The JohnLock Refutation Fandom (Anthropomorphic)
Kudos: 13





	Pressure Points

**Author's Note:**

> Follows BBC TV canon but not to the letter

Charles Augustus Magnussen knew people. Not as in, understood the depths and intricate nuances of people, but he knew and understood the emotional reactions of people. Who they are, what they are, how and why they are the way they are, and what they value the most can be evaluated all within a single glance.

Now, some may find that unsettling, others see it as a very intriguing trait, some may even go so far as to call it a curse from the gods, but Charles? He always found it to be a talent, and oh how he flourished under this gift. 

The trick of the trade had been taught to him early in life by another boy - we'll call him James for now - who'd learned of his terrifying secret of the sad kind, and tried to hold it over poor, young Charles in an attempt to control him. It didn't last long. James had to move away due to... unknown circumstances. That was when he realised how powerful blackmail could be to another person, eagerly joining the game by pulling up all kinds of secrets with his peers, and turning it into a profession later in life. He may not have been the one to invent blackmail, but oh did he know how to turn that noun into his bitch. Just like how he planned to make Mycroft his when he was done with this game. 

Though he prided himself in knowing all possible consequences of what his job entailed, he also forgot how obsessive people could be when they put their minds to it. 

Staring down the barrel of a gun was not the most... ideal situations that he'd wanted to be in, but here he was so he'd have to make do with what he could. 

"Do you know what I've learned in all the times of being threatened for indulging in my work?" Charles said calmly, cocking an eyebrow up at the platinum blonde woman with the gun aimed at his head. 

"Hands up Magnussen. I'm not in the mood for any tricks." The blonde woman's voice was as harsh as steel. 

Charles observed the woman, his face revealing nothing as he raised his hands. 

Mary Morstan-Watson (Fake), a.k.a Rosamund Arwell (Fake), a.k.a ??? Occupation - Nurse, Assassin for Hire, Freelance agent  
Age: 38-42  
Weakness: John Watson(?), AGRA 

The man gave the most minute smile as the woman insisted he discard his phone and get on his knees. 

When people got sloppy, they almost always give another part of themselves away, no matter how stoic they were. 

"It's never the hostage that's ever responsible for their own deaths." Charles commented while hunched on the floor. 

Then the door slammed open, and in came the most obnoxious and brash man Charles Augustus Magnussen had ever encountered. He will admit later that seeing Sherlock Holmes in his office was probably the best surprise he'd had in awhile. 

Sherlock Holmes a.k.a William Sherlock Scott Holmes  
Occupation: Consulting Detective  
Siblings: Mycroft H. and other  
Hobbies: Violin, contemporary dance, board games  
Weakness: John Watson  
Note: Tread carefully

Sometimes the best surprises also gave you the most opportunity, and for that Charles was grateful for it. Anticipating a possible injury to either of the two men in the room, Charles discreetly phoned the police with his GPS tracker on. He hoped even the most incompetent fool could deal with the problem that he had no real plans put into place for this. 

Click. Boom. The Great Sherlock Holmes is shot in his presence. No matter how infallible a man could be in his mind, Charles mused, his body will always fall and crumble like a house of cards in the face of danger. When the blonde woman makes her escape, her husband enters the room. 

Charles Augustus Magnussen wondered if this man knew of his wife's troubles. 

"Who shot him?" John demanded at Charles, before dismissing him entirely to apply pressure to the wound in Sherlock's chest. 

Evidently he did not. 

Charles will admit that he can sometimes be wrong when it comes to his readings about people. He had assumed John Watson was a man of rigor substance, being a soldier for Queen and country after all, but it seemed it wasn't just that. No, he had far too many good qualities that were heavily concentrated and well accommodated to even be a man worthy of having secrets to keep. A soldier, a doctor, and an emotional human being. Charles would say he was the most boring and bland man in the world, and yet - 

John H. Morstan-Watson (Fraudulent Marriage)  
Age: 46  
Injuries: Shoulder bullet wound, nerve damage to left arm, PTSD  
Hobbies: Board games, reading, exercise  
Weakness: Sherlock Holmes  
Note: Anger issues, Alcoholic(?), Trust issues. Easily provoked (?)

It seemed John H. Watson's weaknesses were the same as Sherlock Holmes. Not even the marriage of an unassuming nurse would change that. Fascinating. 

When the paramedics began to arrive, Charles silently left to give Dr. Watson his privacy to his Holmes. 

The most powerful man on the planet bided his time, plotting a vague plan to take Mycroft down a peg. It was an easy enough plan. Announce to the world who Mrs. Morstan-Watson really was, and you'll have a domino catalyst effect in your hands. Create bluffs and traps as distractions, and soon enough you'll have taken down the king without having to lift a finger. 

Self-destruction was always a marvelous journey in Charles's opinion. The descent down to nothing, the mind driveling in on itself until it can't escape, and gives in to despair. Sherlock Holmes was an even greater example of that journey. 

"Fire exposes our priorities," Charles said, his tone amused as he cocked his head to the side, "and look how you care about John Watson. Your damsel in distress." 

The three men stood - John, Sherlock, and Charles - watching a clip on the monitor in Magnussen's office. 

Sherlock's face twitched, uncomfortable with Charles's deductions hanging over the detective's head. "Do you have it?" 

"No. Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. I wouldn't do something as foolish as to write it down. It's all up in here." Charles tapped his temple, "Every file recorded on everyone is rendered in this brain. You'd know more about that, wouldn't you Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock stiffened, "Then why are we here?" 

Charles's smile widened, "Well it is the holidays, isn't it? I thought it'd be nice to let you gentlemen enjoy the scenery of Appledore." He walked around his desk and looked up at Sherlock, then turned his attention to Dr. Watson. 

"It is a lovely evening." Sherlock said drily. 

"Mm... and I'm sure this one here," Charles flicked John's forehead with a small smile, "would enjoy a stroll in the gardens, wouldn't you agree Mr. Holmes?" 

Sherlock's mouth twitched, but said nothing to the man. John barely flinched, staring coolly up at Charles, and that was when he understood Dr. Watson's worth to the great Sherlock Holmes. 

Sherlock Holmes was no sociopath no matter who might object to the denied moniker. No, Sherlock Holmes was a regular, ordinary man with a gifted mind and a shielded heart, left open for only one Dr. Watson. 

Mycroft Holmes however, was the true sociopath Charles Augustus Magnussen was after. 

"Come, let's go outside. It is a lovely evening after all." Charles waved them to follow him out the front door. 

As he expected, two helicopters were out, there headlights shining directly over Magnussen in the limelight. He looked back to the two partners who seemed to also have their hands up. 

With a smug grin, he turned back to face the helicopters, only to hear a loud bang from behind him, and he dropped to the ground in a heap. 

His last thought to himself was, "the wind doesn't come in from the east at all."

**Author's Note:**

> There weren't any good Charles Augustus Magnussen fics, so I made one myself.


End file.
